What I Want To Teach My Children: You Are Not Special

You see it everywhere these days. Children's books...TV shows...movies...commercials...internet ads...facebook...

YOU ARE UNIQUE! YOU ARE DIFFERENT! YOU ARE SPECIAL!

Now let me clarify here before you go calling DCFS on me and label me as a terrible parent. I love my children more than anyone, and to me, they are the most special and unique children in the world. But. The key word there is: TO ME.

The rest of the world? Sure, they might think my kids are great. Or even MORE than great. Or perhaps, when Elizabeth is in the grocery store screaming at a decibel level known only to jet engine workers, people might think my kids are less than great. And I understand that. When you have your own kid, EVERYTHING she does is amazing. I think it's just imprinted in our genes to behave this way. "Oh my gosh...LOOK at the way her toe moves when she crawls!! Isn't that the most adorable thing you've ever seen??" And everyone else is slowly nodding their heads, nervously smiling, wondering to themselves when that parent might have reached this level of crazy, and promising themselves that if THEY ever have children, gosh darnit, they will never act this way.

This need to be special has pervaded our culture in a way it has never been before. I believe it is largely due to social media, a place in which we are bombarded with the extraordinary events of people's lives which leaves us to believe our own lives are less than stellar. (By the way...I think social media is great. But this is one negative effect of it).

People who are in my generation and older remember a time without social media. IN MY DAY, we had to use a TELEPHONE to CALL people if we wanted to talk!! None of this typing, texting nonsense! **Clears throat** Sorry...ahem. Anyway, my children will never have this experience. Even though I will probably be a stricter parent than most and not allow them to have a Facebook (if it still exists in 10 years) or a cell phone with texting and internet (if those even do exist at all), they will still be surrounded by this culture. This culture, which magnifies our lives to be something spectacular and exciting all the time, desensitizes us to what the word "awesome" really means.

I want my kids to realize that there is beauty in the ordinary. That they do not have to grow up to be a brain surgeon or a doctor or a world famous sports athlete in order to be happy. That we should have enormous respect for all professions, from the garbage man all the way to President. I want them to know they are no different from everyone else, because we all have a soul that was created by God Himself.

Even the most menial tasks we do can have great value. As Blessed Teresa of Calcutta said, we must do "small things with great love." Every time I change a diaper or fold a shirt or clean up a mess, I keep this in mind. That all the small, ordinary things I do every day are meaningful.

We can especially see this during the Christmas season. Mary and Joseph were regular, ordinary people. They rode to Bethlehem on a donkey. Jesus was born in a tiny, meager stable. None of these circumstances in which the Savior of the world came into being were special. And yet, they were what God chose for His only Son.

So if my kids are never blue ribbon winners, or valedictorians, or competition winners, that's okay. If they are, then great. But as long as they are trying their hardest, I hope they realize that aspiring to be ordinary is wonderful. Because really, that's what we all are: ordinary. And that in itself is a beautiful thing.

What My Daughter Has Taught Me About Trusting God

Confession time: I have control issues. Wait, what? That doesn't surprise you? Oh. Well then. Moving on.

I have this idea in my head that *I* know what's best for my life and the life of my family. I have the best plans. I try my hardest to be the best person I can be, and gosh dangit, only I know how to achieve that.

I worry incessantly. About mostly stupid things. But sometimes, my worries are legitimate. And looking back so far, I think one of the biggest worries in my life occurred when I became pregnant with my little Mary.

I knew, of course, that it was possible I could get pregnant again. My husband and I don't use contraception, and we are fully aware that every time we have intercourse there is a possibility of pregnancy. (And, by the way, even if you DO use contraception, there is STILL a chance you could get pregnant if you have intercourse). But it was never in the forefront of my mind. Kind of like how people know it's possible that if they buy a lottery ticket, they could win the lottery. Or that if dark clouds start forming, a tornado might come. One of those things that you know could happen but just don't really expect.

When I saw those two pink lines on my positive pregnancy test, my entire world shifted. All these thoughts pervaded my waking moments...mainly "what ifs." What if I am so sick for the entire pregnancy and I can't take care of Elizabeth? What if I lose this baby? What if I have to go on bedrest and I can't lift Elizabeth? What if my delivery is horrible and I need months to recover?

And mostly: How the heck am I going to handle two babies so close in age?

There are so many people out there who have multiple children close in age, and some closer in age than my two girls. And they always manage. But I wasn't like them...I'm not patient, or trusting, or unselfish. I didn't know how I was going to do it. Every time someone made the comment, "Wow, you are going to have your hands full!" (every 5.2 minutes to be exact) my doubts and anxieties grew even more.

Then...

I held her for the first time.

My sweet, amazing, gift from God. I can't really describe to you what an incredible baby she is. All of my doubts and fears and insecurities...all of them were for nothing. Because guess what happened? God had it all figured out. I am in the palm of His hand, whether I want to be or not. He gave me this beautiful, calm, easygoing baby. My life and my heart is fuller because of her. And now, I honestly can't imagine my life without two babies close in age. I am so thankful that it happened the way it did.

If *I* had been in control of the situation, I would have waited longer because I just assumed there was no way I would be able to handle having another baby so soon. But my precious Mary has taught me, just by being herself, that God knows what's best for me so much more than I do. And I notice more and more that when I totally surrender myself to him (which, for a control freak, is the hardest thing you can ever do), I feel a sense of peace and contentment that I never previously had.

Is God's will for us always easy? Haaaaahahaha. That's a funny joke, isn't it? Most of the time, it's going to be the more difficult path. But we can have faith that He will give us the grace to get through those difficult times. And after having Mary, I am trying, one day at a time, to LET GO. Even those small, every day decisions that seem like SUCH a big deal. God's got them all under control.

Here's the proof.

"So What Do You Do All Day?" Part 1

The decision to become a stay-at-home-mom (which, for brevity's sake, I will call a SAHM for the rest of the post) was not an easy one for me. In fact, I would call it almost agonizing. There were many, many sleepless nights, tearful conversations, and desperate prayers involved. Deep down, I always knew it was the best decision for our family. But I was terrified to make the plunge.

I was immensely blessed to get my dream job right after graduating college. I have told this to many people, but honestly, I could not have found a more perfect job for me. I taught band, choir, and general music at a local Catholic high school. One which, ironically, most of my family attended, but I did not. I absolutely loved teaching high school. For me, it is the perfect age to teach. The students are old enough to understand my weird sense of humor, and to discuss real life issues with insight and maturity. They appreciate sarcasm, they love talking about every day topics, and they make me laugh like no one else can. It was truly a great job.

The first two years I taught, it worked out really well with my life situation. I was engaged the first year, and newly married the second year. Being a high school music teacher means that there are many after school, evening, and weekend obligations that take up your time in addition to your day job (and to be honest, it's like this for most teachers, not just music). But I didn't mind, because it was just my husband and me at home.

When Elizabeth was born during my third year of teaching, my school was generous enough to allow me to take an entire semester off for maternity leave (mostly unpaid, but my job would be held for me). For me, it was a great situation because I was able to have 7 months off (second semester and summer) to spend with my baby, getting used to being a mom. Trent and I seriously considered me not going back to school. In the end, though, we decided it would be best for me to return to my job.

But I knew that, even though I loved my job so much, something wasn't right. I felt like I was split...I couldn't give 100% to my job OR my family. I spent all day at work thinking about my family, and I spent all day at home thinking about my job. I had many evening and weekend obligations that made it difficult to spend time with my new daughter. Some days, I only saw her in the morning as I scrambled to get everything ready for day care.

My instincts were telling me that staying home would be the right decision. Trent wanted me to stay home more than anything. But fear held me back. What would people say? What if I hated staying home and wanted my job back? I kept asking God for some sort of sign...a sign which I felt wasn't coming.

But then, the sign came. In the form of a positive pregnancy test. At that moment when I saw those two pink lines, even amid my shock and disbelief, I knew that once this baby came, I could no longer return to work. I was still scared out of my mind, but deep down, for the first time, I felt a sense of peace and finality about my decision. 

Much to my surprise, most of my friends and family showed great love and support of our decision. There were a few negative comments and disapproving glances here and there, but overall, I really did feel an outpouring of positive feedback. This helped me feel peace about our decision so much.

Now that I have been a SAHM for almost a half of a year, I have realized many things. Most importantly, I now understand how lucky I am to even have the choice to stay home. Money is tight for us, yes. But we have the means to make it work. Many women want nothing more than to stay home with their children, but can't because of financial or other reasons. 

I also see that being a SAHM does not make you a better or worse parent than being a working mom. Every family is different. I know some moms who are simply better moms when they are able to get out of the house and work. They say they would hate staying home every day. Other moms, like myself, simply do better when we can be with our children most of the time. I think Catholics especially are guilty of being judgmental of other family's situations. When I went back to work after having Elizabeth, there was a well intentioned Catholic friend who asked us why we were going to pay someone to raise our child for us. 

Most of all, though, I see a culture that views SAHMs as lazy leeches who use their husband's money and do not contribute to their family in a productive way. We are asked the dreaded question time and time again: "So...what do you do all day?" 

In a series of blog posts to come, I will talk about why this view is wrong (not to mention highly offensive), where it comes from, and how I respond to it. Stay tuned!

Mary's Birth Story

Yin and Yang. Salt and Pepper. Hot and Cold. Chocolate and Vanilla. Mmmmm...chocolate...wait, what?

Opposites: this word describes my two daughters to a tee. Everything about them so far is so completely different. It's fascinating how two people who come from the same parents could be so different, but I guess it makes sense. Dramatic, outgoing, creative, emotional Elizabeth is just like me (Lord help us). Calm, observant, serious Mary is just like Trent. They even look completely different (except for those trademark lips...they both have those).

Right after birth. Left: Elizabeth, Right: Mary

About 1 week old. Left: Elizabeth, Right: Mary

1 month old. Left: Elizabeth. Right: Mary

Their pregnancy and birth stories are no exception. I wrote about Elizabeth's birth story here, and to fully understand Mary's birth story and how different it was from her sister's, you should grab some popcorn, sit back, and read that first.

During my pregnancy with Elizabeth, I was violently sick for about 5 months. To the point where it was difficult for me to function. With Mary's pregnancy, I felt a tiny bit sick from time to time, but it was very tolerable and it only lasted for a month or so. The rest was smooth sailin'. I almost felt guilty when people looked at me with pity in their eyes and asked how I was feeling...inevitably, I'd always respond with a big smile and say "great! No complaints here!" During Elizabeth's pregnancy, I felt her move very early, at about 12 weeks. And she moved like a maniac during the whole pregnancy. I didn't feel Mary until about 15 weeks, and even then, she was always very calm. I never really felt that much movement with her. It even made me worried sometimes.

We started setting up new baby's stuff about
a week or two before my due date...
because we thought we had SO much time.
(Oh...and Elizabeth was a bit confused and
thought it was HER bassinet...)

When July came, I knew time was ticking and my due date (August 1) was drawing near. But I reasoned with myself that I would probably have until the second week of August to get ready. After all, Elizabeth went 10 days late. And I was not going to be disillusioned this time that my baby would come on or near its due date.

I was mentally preparing myself for the worst. That probably seems like a depressing and/or ineffective way to think. But after what I went through with Elizabeth's birth, I knew that things don't usually happen the way we want them to. I knew now that birth is a complicated process and that the ultimate goal is to get a healthy mom and baby. And I knew that sometimes, the process of getting to that goal does not always happen the way we want it to.

I was making lots of plans for the week of my due date. The thought did not even enter my mind that it was possible for me to have my baby close to my actual due date, so I figured it would be fine. The last week of July came and went, and I was starting to get excited that I would probably meet my baby in the next week (but no earlier)!

The evening before my due date, I was baking with my sister-in-law and her boyfriend, having a grand old time. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and noticed lots of blood. Hmmmm...I thought. Maybe this means the baby will come in the next week! Maybe my baby will only be a week late, rather than 10 days! I texted my midwife just to make sure the bleeding was a good sign. Her response: "I bet you are getting really close! I'd be shocked if you didn't kick in in the next 24 hours! Keep me informed."

WHUT.

Um, hey baby. I'm not ready for you to come yet. I was mentally preparing myself for you to be really late. So....WHAT?! I mean, come on! What baby is born on its ACTUAL due date??? No baby of mine, that's for sure!

Mary's first bath

So I spent the rest of the evening in denial, telling my sister in law, her boyfriend, and Trent that they could go on their merry way because there was no way this was for real. I reasoned that just because my contractions were starting to actually feel real didn't mean that they actually were real. I reasoned that just because my baby was moving more in a 10 minute time span than it had in the past 9 months didn't mean that anything was actually changing. I reasoned that just because it was hard for me to go to sleep because the pain from the contractions kept waking me up didn't mean that they were actual contractions. "Don't worry," I told Trent. "Just plan on going to work tomorrow. There's no way this is going to happen yet." And I kept telling myself that as I lay there through the night, having to concentrate more and more as the pain kept getting stronger and stronger.

The next morning, Trent decided to call off work. "This probably isn't actually happening," I said, "But maybe you shouldn't go to work just in case it actually is. Which I'm sure it isn't. But just in case." We called my mom, who was a labor nurse and is now a labor nurse educator. And I must say, it is wonderfully convenient to have a labor nurse as a mother when you are actually going through labor. My mom came over and checked how dilated I was. "4 cm," she told me.

WHUT.

My pitocin/epidural baby meeting my natural
baby for the first time

You must understand that it took me 16 hours, 12 of which were pitocin-induced, gut wrenching, sweat filled mania, to even get that far with Elizabeth's labor. And here I was, at home, pretty uncomfortable, but easily walking around, taking a shower, and eating breakfast. And I had already dilated that far. I could hear the choirs of angels in heaven singing Handel's Hallelujah Chorus.

"Well..." I said, "This might not be for real though." Because I was still in denial. And my mom just looked at me incredulously and said in a way that only moms can, "Ashley. You're in labor." And the matter was closed, closed in a way that only moms can close it.

So I walked around at home, still in unbelief that this was not only happening, but it so far was happening in the exact way that I wanted it to happen. I wanted to stay home as long as possible, and I wanted to do this thing without any meds. So far, so good. But I was not so naive to think that I was home free yet.

My mom called the hospital to see what the labor floor was like. And apparently everyone and their mother decided they wanted to have a baby that day, because there was only one open room left. And Lawdy there was no way in Hades that I wanted to share a room with someone. So, at around 9am, we decided to hightail it to the hospital.

I got to my hospital room, and they checked to see how dilated I was. 5 cm.

WHUT.

Soon after, my water broke. On its own.

WHUT.

My contractions were getting stronger and closer together. The room was dim, there was calming music, I was sitting on a labor ball, and I was free to move wherever I wanted because I was not hooked up to any IV fluids or meds. This was all happening in the way I had always envisioned it.

WHUT. WHAT?! Is this real life??!

It got to the point where during each contraction I had to concentrate more than I had ever concentrated before. As my friend Kim told me after she went through her med-free labor just weeks earlier, I had to remember that the pain was a good thing, because it was getting the baby out. So during each contraction, I repeating the words "down and out" to myself, just like she suggested. I had to concentrate so much that I had to ask my mom and Trent to be quiet when they were talking during my contractions, because it was distracting me.

It was kind of like those labor movies that you watch during your childbirth prep classes, when they show you the stereotypical "natural" labor. The one where everyone rolls their eyes because there's no possible way that the stars would align so well that it would actually happen like that in real life.

Going home from the hospital. Most babies
scream when you put them in the carseat for
the first time. Mary was pretty chill about it all

But it did. It was kind of textbook, actually, in a way. Around 3 or 3:30 (I think) I started to get a little crazy. The pain was getting to a whole new level and I was ready to get that baby OUT. They checked me, and they told me I could try pushing. I don't remember a whole lot of details at this point because I all I was really thinking was "GET THE BABY OUT GET THE BABY OUT GET THE BABY OUT." They told me I would "know" when I was ready to push. For some reason this freaked me out because how would I really know? I wanted them to just tell me when I should push. Apparently I had a "lip," which meant that I was just about fully dilated to 10cm but there was a tiny bit of my cervix that didn't want to cooperate. And I remember that stupid lip. It made things a lot more painful. I think I even shouted, "Ahhhhh, that stupid lip!!!" But I'm not sure. I kept pushing, but I had yet to feel that insatiable urge that everyone had told me about, where your body just takes over and starts to practically push for you because there's no way you can hold it back.

And then, all the sudden, my body just took over and started to practically push for me because there was no way I could have held it back. It was weird, actually. It was like my muscles had a mind of their own and just decided they would do their thang, thank you very much. And once that happened, that baby came out like BAM.

It was pretty awesome because since there weren't any complications so far, my midwife let Trent deliver the baby. She was there, guiding him and telling him what to do. But he was the one who got to bring her out! I obviously don't remember this actually happening, because I was too busy concentrating on AHHH GET THAT BABY OUT OF ME PLEASE RIGHT NOW I WANT TO BE DONE!!!!!

About to go home from the hospital

Daddy with his girls

And then, just like that, at 4:37pm, my precious baby Mary was born. IT'S A GIRL! Trent said. We were all actually shocked. Because obviously we didn't learn the first time that even though we might have a "feeling" that it's a boy, it doesn't mean a darned thing. And I was sooooo happy to have another girl, because that's secretly what I really wanted (insert caveat that obviously I didn't really care, and I would have been just as happy if the baby was a boy, etc etc etc).

She cried two small squeaky cries, and then was done. She laid on me, so calmly and peacefully. I was so much more emotional with this baby and I actually felt that immediate connection that everyone always talks about.

And that's Mary for you. Punctual, by the book, and calm. Born on her due date. With a labor that I always wanted but never actually thought would happen. Sweet Mary. She's my little lamb. (Ehhhh? See what I did there??)

Boobies and Cow Duties In Public: Yay or Nay?

Hi! My name is Ashley. I used to have a blog that I updated on a regular basis. Then this little thing happened where I had a baby. Here I thought copious amounts of time sitting and nursing would equal a PLETHORA of amazing posts! Buuuuut Trent and I started watching Downton Abbey. Annnnnd our Amazon Prime subscription was about to run out and we aren't planning on renewing it. Annnnnd we wanted to finish all four seasons before our subscription ran out.

Mission accomplished. Anguish level from events in show=high. Blog production level=nada. Well, never fear, I am here, and I'm going to TRY to get back into my blogging groove.

Mary Ellen, so far, has been a dream baby. She only cries when she's hungry or very tired, she sleeps pretty well for a newborn**, and she's sweet as pie. She's only 3 weeks old, so I do realize that this could all change. But for now, I'm thanking God for giving me such a calm, sweet baby.

**except when it's time to go to sleep at night. Then she only wants to be nursing at all times.

Almost every aspect of my pregnancy, birth, and postpartum experience with Mary has been completely different from my experience with Elizabeth. A big difference I have noticed (so far) has been with breastfeeding. I've written a post before about my past experience. With Elizabeth, I struggled greatly with the transition to full time breastfeeding and had many issues with milk supply and Elizabeth's (lack of) weight gain. So far, Mary has been a great nurser and we haven't had any big issues. I'm now having the breastfeeding experience that I always envisioned, and I am so very thankful. I think having had a bad experience before has made me appreciate the good experience now so much more.

Lately, I have been noticing a lot of talk about breastfeeding in public. I'm wondering what people's thoughts actually are on this topic. It seems like there's always a few people on both sides who feel strongly about their opinion, but how do the majority of people actually feel?

I'll tell you what I think. Personally, I do not feel comfortable nursing in public without a cover. This can pose issues sometimes, since Mary does not seem to really like the nursing cover. But regardless of the annoyances that come with using a cover, I still am glad that I have one and will use it when I nurse in public.

BUT, I also think people who do not want to use a cover should have a right to do so. Unfortunately, we live in a society where magazines of mostly naked women on the cover can be displayed at eye level in grocery stores with no issues, and PG-13 movies can contain graphic scenes with nudity (or almost nudity) with no complaints from anyone. But whoooooooa there, cowgirl, hold on one sec...if a woman decides to nurse her baby in public with no cover, suddenly everyone is uncomfortable and offended.

I was at the Science Center with my husband and two children (it sounds so weird to say the word "children" when referring to my family) and I sat on a little bench to nurse Mary. I used my cover. This woman came up to me and said, "I just want to thank you for giving nursing a good image. I was here a few weeks ago and this woman just popped out her boob for the whole world to see, and it was extremely offensive. So thank you." I just kind of left my mouth open in response, because while I personally don't feel comfortable with nursing without a cover, I have absolutely no problem with women who do choose not to use one.

I don't necessarily blame people who feel uncomfortable with the practice of uncovered breastfeeding. It's a societal problem, and it all stems back to our unhealthy and over-sexed view of the human body. We are so saturated with images of nearly naked men and women (nearly always meant to portray sex appeal), but when a woman is using her body part for something it was actually created to do, we suddenly become more prudish than the Victorian era.

My view is: if you don't like it, just don't look. Some babies are extremely finicky and have a very difficult time latching on. Covers just make it worse. So why can't a woman feed her baby without having to get nasty looks and comments from others?

What do you think? Are you uncomfortable with uncovered nursing, or do you think it's fine? I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Photo credit:
"GhazanBeingBreastfed" by Rashid al-Din - Rashid al-Din, "Djami al-Tawarikh", early 14th century. Reproduction in "Ghengis Khan et l'Empire Mongol", Jean-Paul Roux. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.
"Breastfeeding-icon-med" by Matt Daigle - Mothering.com. Via Wikimedia Commons.

A Letter: To Those of You Who Complain That Parents Nowadays Aren't Good Disciplinarians

I had a particularly difficult time-out session yesterday. Oh wait, did I say "I?" I meant Elizabeth. But really, it was just as hard for me as it was for her. It's in no way fun or easy to sit there and listen to my little girl cry for 50 minutes straight. But I knew that, since we are starting to implement new rules based on her growing understanding of (and attempting to get away with) unacceptable behaviors, the first few weeks (and especially days) would be the hardest. It's like ripping off a band-aid. Once she realizes what's going on, she'll get it. Even today was better...she only cried for 35 minutes straight. But PHEW, this consistent discipline stuff is not for the faint of heart.

It got me thinking about the different discipline techniques that are out there, and which ones are and aren't effective. That's a difficult subject to tackle, because really, a lot of it depends on the family and what they feel comfortable with. But a lot also depends on what produces results. When I look back on how parents used to discipline their children, it seems so great and simple to me. But it bothers me when people complain about how other families discipline their children. Sure, if their discipline methods are not producing results, perhaps they should try something else. But, as I've said before, what's right for my family might not necessarily be right for yours.

So if you find yourself grumbling about how "things just ain't what they used to be," this blog post might just be for you.

Dear Person Who Thinks Discipline Has Gone Down the Drain,

Hi! I'm Ashley. I'm glad we've met. Because I think we have a lot in common. I, too, think that parents back in the day had the right idea. Children were expected to behave, and quite simply, if they didn't, there were consequences. That was that. Things were simple. Both parents and children knew what was acceptable and what was not. Both parents and children knew what would happen if and when rules were broken. And for the most part, a majority of parents agreed with each others' parenting styles.

I'm all about disciplining the "old-fashioned" way. It fits me. And, having a strong willed child, I find that it is much easier for me to be consistent when I have clear cut rules: "If you do action A, consequence B will happen, every time." I have no problem with spanking, and think for some families, it can work very well. I have a hard time believing that if you give children time-out for longer than the recommended "one minute for every year of age" that they will completely fail to understand the consequences of their actions. I have learned that, when done appropriately, I CAN let my child cry and work out her own problems, and it won't result in long term brain damage or emotional instability like so many "researchers" say it will.

Bottom line: disciplining your child is the most loving thing you can do for her, because it teaches her how to deal with real life. Agreed? Yes? Cool.

But. Here's the thing. Times are much, much different now than they used to be when a smack in the behind would suffice for proper punishment. It's very easy for anyone to sit back and say to himself, "If I were that child's parent, things would be quite different. If I had done that when I was a kid, my parents would not have tolerated it for one millisecond. Back in my day, that kid would have learned respect." Etc, etc, etc.

Again, I agree with you. But you must keep in mind what our current society is like, and the pressures parents now face that were never even on the radar of parents 50 years ago. Sure, we have a lot of things easier than parents back then did. Life is much more convenient. But we have different difficulties than they did. Especially those of us who want to implement good ol' fashioned discipline for our children.

1. Parents back then did not have the constant worry of DCFS showing up at their doors
Please understand that I am in no way saying DCFS is a bad thing. Of course, there are unfortunately so many neglected children who need assistance and benefit greatly from this organization. But sometimes, parents who are just doing their job and raising their children appropriately and lovingly are accused of doing the exact opposite. I am terrified of giving Elizabeth a "time out" somewhere in public, because someone could potentially see that as "child neglect." I always hesitate to leave her be in a store aisle while she throws a fit, because I know someone could easily report me for abandonment. I never spank her in front of strangers, even though I sometimes do when we are by ourselves at home, because in their eyes, that would make me a child abuser.
I think it's pretty obvious where the line is. You can tell the difference between a parent who disciplines in a firm but loving way and one who does so in a totally inappropriate and harmful way. At least, you would think people can tell the difference. But it's not so anymore.

2. Appropriate spanking was normal and common
And maybe, some of you might say, inappropriate spanking was considered normal. I know my parents have told me that if they would have done to me what their parents did to them, it would have been easily considered "abuse." But they have never talked about their parents with fear or trepidation in their voices, and they do not feel emotionally stunted or damaged from the way their parents disciplined them. Nowadays, if you even say that you spank your child, you are given looks. When I spank Elizabeth, it involves a swat on the hand or the behind. And yes, it is hard enough so that she gets the message. But then it's over and done. And we both move on. It is an effective way for me to communicate to her when something she does in not acceptable, because she is not able to communicate with words yet. I don't enjoy doing it. And she doesn't enjoy receiving it. But it works for our family.

I'm certainly not trying to suggest that spanking is a good disciplinary tool for everyone. Some families might be very uncomfortable using it with their children. And that's fine. But it's a shame that I have to feel judged and even frightened to use my completely appropriate disciplinary tool in public just because others don't agree with it.

3. Most mothers stayed home with the children
This is a big one. When I was a full time working outside the home mom, I found it very difficult to consistently implement my own discipline techniques, when during the day my child was disciplined in a completely different way. I think it's safe to say that most, if not all, day care facilities (rightfully so) would never dream of spanking a child in their care, even if a parent gave them permission, for fear of getting sued or fired. Some people think time-out is not a good thing. Regardless of who thinks what, the fact of the matter is, if I am the parent, it is ultimately my responsibility to discipline my child. And this is much harder to do when I am not a near constant presence in the child's life.
This is not, of course, to say that moms who work outside the home should just throw in the towel and give up. It is definitely possible to implement your own disciplinary methods on your children, even if they are cared for by someone else for much of the day. But it is impossible to deny that it is much more difficult.

4. Fathers played a much bigger role in the family
Unfortunately, nowadays, the amount of single moms out there is frighteningly high. And the feminist movement has made it seem that men are no longer needed to raise a family. I've written before about just how important daddies are in raising children. 60 years ago, divorce was rare. Fathers were a much more constant presence in the lives of their children than they are today. And as a result, a child received discipline from both parents. Even in families today who have both a mom and a dad present, the mother is usually the disciplinarian. It is now politically incorrect to refer to the father as the head of the household, even though it makes Biblical and logistical sense.

5. There were not "experts" coming at parents with copious amounts of research, all stating different things
Don't spank your kid, or she will think violence is acceptable. Don't let your kid cry, or he will develop severe trust issues. Don't do time out, or the world will explode.
I'm so. sick. of. all. the. research. It's overwhelming, exhausting, and confusing. Because every "expert" says something different. 50 years ago, parents just did what their instincts told them. But now, you've got people coming at you from all over telling you that what you are doing is WRONG and it will affect your child for LIFE. Talk about insecurity.

6. It was considered a good thing to let your child learn by doing.
This one, probably more than anything, irks me the most. I am a very "hands off" parent. When I say this, I mean that I am perfectly fine with allowing Elizabeth to do things many other parents would (and do) think are "dangerous." Now, obviously, I am smart about this. I do not allow my child to do anything that is downright unsafe, like playing with electrical outlets, knives, fire, or anything like that. But I realize that there are risks with everything, and I cannot let my fear of a small risk outweigh the benefit of Elizabeth learning how to do common tasks or activities. Typical occurrences in my house:

Freaked out person: "Elizabeth, NO! Don't close that drawer! You'll smash your fingers!"
My response: "Maybe then she'll learn that closing the drawer that hard is a bad thing." 

Freaked out person: "Elizabeth, NO! Don't run so fast down the driveway! You'll fall and scrape your knee!"
My response: "Uh....she's going to fall in her life. Many, many times. A scraped knee is not concerning to me at all." 

Freaked out person: "Elizabeth, NO! Don't help your mom unload the dishwasher! That fork could poke you in the eye!"
My response: "Elizabeth, YES. Help me unload the dishwasher. The pain it saves my 9 month pregnant back from not having to bend over is well worth the risk of your eyeball." (Just kidding...kind of...) 

Freaked out person: "Elizabeth, NO! Don't go up the stairs! You are going to fall down!"
My response: "And...how else is she supposed to learn to go up the stairs? Perhaps we can learn to to apparate like they do in Harry Potter."

So, person who complains about how kids just aren't disciplined the right way anymore, I'm right there with you. But I also know better than to automatically assume a family's situation. And I realize that, as nostalgic as I am about the way things "used to be," it's just not realistic to assume things are that simple. Discipline is not a sprint...it's a marathon. It lasts until your child leaves your home, and perhaps even past that point. It's a complicated thing, and more of a learning experience than I ever imagined it would be. Certain things will work for some families and not for others. And we must figure out what is best for us.

Much love,
Ashley

Why Being A Cow Was The Hardest Thing I've Ever Done

As I've said before on this blog, I had a LOT of ideas of how I was going to raise my children, if God so blessed me with them, before I actually had any children. Before I was even married. My oh-so-ideal viewpoint of child rearing came back to bite me in the butt when I actually HAD a child and realized that it might not be so simple as I thought, after all.

Breastfeeding was, so far, probably the most eye opening experience for me in regards to raising children. I had absolutely NO idea what it involved or how it worked. All I "knew" was the following:

1. It's free
2. It's more healthy for the mom and baby
3. It promotes bonding between mom and baby
4. You put baby to breast, baby eats until baby is content, mom and baby then go about their day

Picture perfect

When I was pregnant with Elizabeth, I got free samples of formula in the mail. I immediately gave them away. "Why the heck do I need formula?" I said. "I'm going to breastfeed for two years. Think of all the money I'll save! Think of how much healthier my baby will be! Think of how much more baby weight I will lose!"

Every time I saw people buy formula at the store, I judged them. "Why in the world would you not breastfeed??" I was baffled. 

And clueless. And ignorant.

And here's what I have to say now to my pre-parent self:

BAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!! 

So far in my life, breastfeeding was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. It drained me physically, emotionally, and mentally. It was not a sprint...it was a marathon. A marathon times 10. Times 50. I had absolutely NO IDEA what breastfeeding really involved.

Here is what they DON'T tell you (or maybe they do tell you, but for me it didn't sink in until I actually had to DO it):

1. You must nurse or pump every 2-3 hours (sometimes less) around the clock

I knew this going into it, but I didn't realize what it actually meant. Sometimes a normal activity, such as cooking dinner or working on a project, requires at least that amount of time of nonstop attention. But when a baby is hungry, you must feed her. Even if you have a pot of pasta on the stove or your picture is only half hung, you stop what you are doing and feed. This was extremely difficult for me to get used to.

2. If you wait any longer or skip any feedings, your milk supply will decrease

Elizabeth had her days and nights mixed up as a newborn. So during the day, many times, she would take 6-hour long naps. You're thinking: "wow, you were lucky!" I kept wondering whether or not I should wake her to feed. But the resounding majority of people always told me with great fervor: "Never wake a sleeping baby!!!!" So I didn't. So my supply started to decrease, and Elizabeth began to not gain enough weight. All this spiraled out of control for a few months until I was finally able to re establish my milk supply. For my next baby, (as a newborn), I will never let him or her go more than 4 hours without eating. Even if I have to wake the baby up.

3. The average amount of time one feeding takes is 30 minutes (but can easily take longer)

I used to think that breastfeeding just involved sitting in a chair, feeding your baby for 10 minutes, and then going about your day. Wow. Was I wrong. Did you know that the average amount of time per day a woman spends breastfeeding an infant is 11 hours?? And that's average....many women spend longer! That's about half of your day. It was so hard for me to spend that much time just sitting. People would try to make me feel better, and tell me that I wasn't just sitting. I was providing my new baby with nourishment. And I did agree with that. But all that sitting, even if it is for a purpose, is very hard for some women like myself to do.

4. To time feedings, you must start at the beginning of a feeding.

Example: Begin nursing at 3:00. Takes 45 minutes. At 5:00, it has been 2 hours since the last feeding, even though technically it was 1 hour 15 minutes since you finished feeding. Elizabeth had a knack for wanting to eat every hour for a lot of the day. So I'd start feeding her at 1:00, she'd be done at 1:30. Then at 2:00, she wanted to eat again. Then again at 3, and 4. Etc, etc. And people wondered why my house wasn't clean or why we ate crackers and jelly some nights for dinner.

Now you're probably asking: "Well, since you had such a hard time with it, you're not going to go through it again, right?"

Answer: WRONG. Breastfeeding was difficult for me. I went through a lot. But I wouldn't change it for anything. And I plan on doing it again as long as possible with my next baby.

This post is not at all meant to shed breastfeeding in a negative light. Breastfeeding certainly is the best thing you can do for your baby. It does do all the things the experts tell us: it promotes bonding, it is more nutritional, it is cheaper, and it helps mom get back to her pre-pregnancy self more quickly.  I did have some wonderful experiences breastfeeding Elizabeth. And many women have amazing breastfeeding experiences for the whole time and are able to keep up with it for years. I am truly happy for them, and I really hope that with my next baby, I will have an experience like this.

BUT. I really don't believe that breastfeeding is the best thing for your baby if it stresses you out to the point where you can no longer care for your baby as well as you might have otherwise. Many women who can no longer handle the pressure feel an obligation to continue breastfeeding, even if it is bringing them to the breaking point. Many women who want to give their baby the best nutrition possible feel an incredible amount of guilt if they are not able to supply their baby with sustenance the natural way. Many women who are longing for that "bonding experience" feel only frustration when it seems that their baby simply cannot cooperate with the physical requirements needed for breastfeeding.

If you are one of those ladies...I hear ya. I understand what you are going through, went through, or are afraid you might go through again. This is my story of being a cow, and why I now gaze at those large, black and white, mooing beasts with such reverence and respect.

Multitasking at its finest

I am the type of person that needs to be busy. I do not enjoy spending large amounts of time sitting around, unless I'm with friends or family. I get great satisfaction out of accomplishing tasks, even if it's something simple such as baking a cake, making my bed, or watering my garden. I can physically see the fruits of my labors, and it brings me great joy. I have spent most of my high school, college, and early marriage years being very busy. Not because I think "oh I'm so popular, oh I just have so much to do I can't possibly manage it all blah blah blah." It's because I choose to live that way, I'm used to it, and I enjoy it. Even during my summers off as a student and a teacher, I have always been busy. I worked until the week before Elizabeth was due. I'm just that way.

**Note: I don't think that people who are not busy are lazy or dull or living their life wrongly. In fact, I think being busy all the time is actually a bad thing. But I'm giving you some background so you can better understand why breastfeeding was so difficult for me.**

So when I went from this kind of lifestyle to immediately spending 12-14 hours a day sitting in a chair feeding my baby, it was a huge transition for me. I loved spending the time with my newborn. But there was a large part of me, too, that kept thinking of how much I needed to get done. About the massive pile of laundry on the floor. About how we had only eaten fast food for days. About how I simply could no longer do ALL THE THINGS.

This viewpoint is, of course, not good. I realize this time that I need to change my viewpoint from "I'm not getting anything done by just sitting here" to "I am giving my baby the best possible nourishment I could, which is definitely being productive." It's just a different kind of productive.

So what did I learn from all this? I think that with my next baby, my breastfeeding experience will be a lot more positive. I know a lot more now than I did then. My expectations have changed. I understand the level of time and commitment it involves, and I am okay with that.  I will not put the same amount of pressure on myself as I did then. I eventually figured out what worked well for Elizabeth and me, and I'll figure out what works well for my next baby. And if it doesn't pan out the way I expect it to, it's alllll good.

Basically, it boils down to what I've said before: you must do what works best for you and your family. God has given us the wonderful gift of breastfeeding to nurture our babies. But he has also given us other means to feed our babies, in case the natural way just doesn't work out. I'm mentally preparing myself now to transform my thought process. If there's a huge pile of laundry on the floor, who cares? That can wait. I'm going to focus on spending precious time with my baby, who will grow so quickly. By breastfeeding, I am showing my baby sacrificial love in the best way I know how.

I'm going to go drink a big glass of milk now, so maybe I'll become more in tune with my inner cow. Moooooooo.

What Being A Music Teacher Has Taught Me

I have never felt such mixed emotions as I do today. Today was my last day as a high school music teacher. Today ends a wonderful chapter in my life, and also begins a brand new one. Today, I begin my life as a stay at home mom.

When Trent and I found out about our pregnancy with this current baby, we had to make the very difficult decision of whether or not I would return to work. After a spending a lot of time in prayer, discussion, weighing pros and cons, and a significant amount of tears on my end, we decided it would be the best decision for our family if I became a stay at home mom.

Today I'd like to reflect on the lessons I have learned being a music teacher. As with any career, there have been highs and lows, good times and bad times. There have been times when I came home thinking I was the worst teacher who ever lived, and other times when I have felt that I truly made a positive difference in someone's life. I have shed tears of sorrow, anger, joy, and wonder. Through my job as a music teacher, I have felt God's presence in a way that I never knew possible. I have lost friends through sickness and death, but gained wonderful new friends as well. It has been a crazy ride, and looking back, I am thankful for every moment.


 Lesson 1: You won't please everyone, but you WILL make a difference in someone's life.
My students are like my children. I am with them almost every day, and as a music teacher, I have the same students year after year. I see them when they enter as freshman, and watch them grow through their senior year. I get to know their personalities in a way that many other teachers do not. I have always felt gratitude for this part of my job. As with any job, though, I quickly learned that I could not focus on the negatives. It was very hard for me to realize that not everyone will like me or enjoy being in my class. But that's okay. As many times as I felt frustrated when I could not reach a particular student, there were more times when I had a positive influence on another student's life. And that, my friends, is the best feeling in the world.

Lesson 2: You will learn more than you will teach.
I am a teacher, which means that I am a student. I teach my students how to be musicians, but more often than that, they teach me how to live life. I went through some of my most difficult times of my personal life while teaching, and I tried to be strong through those times. Often, though, I could not stay strong. I realized that my students can support and help me. They really do care, and they want to help. They have humbled me, and through them, I have learned that it's okay to let my guard down sometimes. They have taught me to find wonder in the small things. To get excited about every day. That it's possible to find joy in even the most menial tasks.

Trent helping me set up my
classroom the summer before
I started my job

Lesson 3: Music can be a release for even the most academically challenged student
I loved teaching music because I got to see students thrive who might have been severely struggling in all their other classes. Most of my students were in my classes because they wanted to be there. It was something different from the rest of their day because they were able to express themselves in a way that didn't only involve words or writing. They were pushed to take risks, because it can be intimidating and even terrifying to open yourself up in this way in front of your peers. Music creates a bond like no other, and we were a family. Most of them felt at home in the music room, which was the same way I felt when I took music classes in school.



Lesson 4: Actions speak louder than words
Being a teacher has made me more aware of how I act in front of my students and in my life outside school. If I am constantly focusing on negatives, either about the music or life in general, they will follow suit. Even more so, I can talk the talk all I want, but it's not going to impress anyone. What I needed to do was walk the walk. When I live my life according to what I tell them they should do, they listen. When I don't, they notice, and it affects their outlook in my class and in their lives. This applies to all areas of our lives, and is really difficult to do. But it does make all the difference.

My favorite classroom poster EVER.
I hung it up during my first year but sadly it got lost somewhere in my second year.

Lesson 5: Growin' up is hard to do
It's very easy for me to get irritated or annoyed with a student (or anyone, really) who doesn't cooperate. But sometimes, I was so focused on what I needed to get done that day that I forgot my students have lives outside of my classroom. And some of them are going through very difficult times. We must realize this, not just in the classroom, but everywhere. We encounter people who may not treat us nicely, but we should remember that we don't know everything about their lives and perhaps they are going through a really difficult time. Not that this an excuse to treat people badly, but it still is something we should consider when dealing with others.

Elizabeth loved going to my concerts.
You can see here she is too busy haming
it up to pay attention to the music.

I am so sad to be leaving this wonderful school and my amazing students. I will never forget my time there, what I have learned, and all the friendships I have made. Today, I start a new part of my life. I will still be a full time teacher, but now, my children are my students. My house will be my classroom. My kitchen will be my cafeteria. My yard will be my playground. And I know that, just like when I taught high school, I will learn from my children just as much as they will learn from me. I will have days when I feel like I am the worst parent in the world, and I will have days when I am on top of the world. Sometimes my children will think I am the meanest person ever, and sometimes they will think I am the greatest. I will need to not only talk the talk, but also walk the walk. I will make new friendships, and cherish old ones.

Please keep me in your prayers as I begin this new phase of my life! And, as always, words of advice and/or encouragement are always appreciated :-)

Family Size: Large Marges and Tiny Tims

Note: K, so I lied. I told you my next post was going to be about Natural Family Planning. Well, I started to write about it, but what I meant to be a "short introduction" to my post actually turned into an entire post in itself. So....I'm gonna go to confession for lying to y'all, and you can enjoy this post that resulted in my lie...but wait...does that mean you are partaking in my lie? Which would make you sin? Which would make me sin even more because I'm encouraging you to sin? AHHHHHH!!!! IS THIS REAL LIFE????


Sorry about that. Just read it. K? K.

I believe it is harder to be a mom now than it ever has been before. Sure, we have modern technology that make life a heck of a lot more convenient. We don't have to go to a river and wash our clothes. We can heat up leftovers in a matter of 30 seconds in the microwave and call that dinner. We have the ability to pop in a movie for the kids if things get a little too hectic around the house and mom needs a few minutes to herself.

But here's what most of us don't have: help. Trust me, I'm not degrading our husbands in any way. I appreciate and need my husband's help more than anything. And I have SO much support from family and friends who help with babysitting and cleaning that I'm probably one of the luckiest moms out there. What I'm referring to is a community of women to essentially live together and contribute their help in all areas that need it. Raising children. Cleaning. Cooking. Teaching. And, just as importantly, providing emotional and spiritual support for each other.

In just about every culture around the world up until present day, women lived this way. They lived in a community, either very near each other, or actually in the same house. They were raised by their own mothers and a whole lot of other women who were like mothers to them. They were taught from a very young age how to take care of their houses, their children, and their husbands. And they always had older, more experienced women around them to offer advice and support.

Now, family units are much smaller. A "typical" household consists of two parents and their children. Even if we live near our families, we might only see them a few times a month. Or even less, depending on the situation. Many families live clear across the country from each other, and can only visit once per year, or even less.

This presents a big problem for mothers. (I'm sure it does for fathers too, but I'm speaking from a mother's perspective). Whether you work outside the home or you work as a full time stay at home mom, you are expected to maintain your house and family in the same way women have been doing for thousands of years:

• Cook wholesome and healthy meals for your family
• Respect your family's budget by saving as much money as possible
• Keep your house clean and organized
• Make your place of living look and feel cozy, comfortable, and decorated
• Keep track of everyone's schedules
• Give individual attention to each member of your family on a regular basis
• Make time for yourself 
• Make time for prayer

In short, it's impossible to accomplish everything unless we have help constant, live-in help. Most of us don't. So we have to accept the fact that we just can't accomplish everything.

Large families used to be the norm. A family made up of two adults and 15 children was not anything mind blowing. Now, we have TV shows about these types of families. We view them almost the same way we view zoo animals: with wonder, awe, and fear. And, of course, we automatically categorize these families as "weird" or "religious zealots".

My husband and I have a joke about how people react when they are told the news of a pregnancy. For a couple's first and second pregnancy, the reaction is typically joy (assuming the circumstances of the pregnancy are good). For the third and fourth, people will start to get uneasy, warning the couple that they need to be "done." For a fifth or sixth, eyes will roll and comments will be muttered under their breath: "They DO know what causes pregnancy, right?" Anything seven or more will simply cause heads to shake...these couples have already made the "weird" and/or "religious zealot" list, and no one will be surprised.

Why is it so crazy in our current age to have big families? It is partly due to the contraceptive mentality in which we live. Children (and our fertility) are viewed as good things...as long as they are convenient for us. When they are not convenient, they are viewed as diseases that need to be "fixed." So we use pills and other methods to prevent pregnancy, making sex something totally twisted from what God originally intended for it to be.

It is also due to our consumerist and individualistic society. Our goals are to have enough money to be comfortable and to be able to give our children all the opportunities we can. We often feel sorry for large families who can't afford to go on vacations or go out to nice restaurants. "If only they would have been smarter and had less children," people say. But do you know what the funny thing is? In my experience, every single one of these families I have seen are happier than anyone else I know. They don't have a lot of money. They don't have a big house. Several children must share rooms. Sometimes they have to eat beans and tortillas for dinner for weeks so they can pay their bills. But they have each other. Life is hard and stressful for them, but they are the most fulfilled and peaceful people I know. Their homes are full of life and laughter.

The bottom line: God provides for those who trust in Him.

That being said, having a large family is not for everyone. Although the Catholic Church is against any form of contraception, She recognizes that there are serious situations in which a mother and a father might NEED a break from children. I think now, more than ever, parents have legitimate reasons to space their children out more than before. We don't have a community living situation in most cases like families in almost every generation before us did. We don't have the help. And sometimes, we get emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted. Sometimes, serious health issues arise in which it would be extremely dangerous for a mother to get pregnant or give birth. Other times, a family's financial situation might be so dire that they in no way can afford another child at the moment.

For this reason, God gave us the scientific knowledge of Natural Family Planning, or NFP. Unlike contraception, it does not separate sex from procreation. It can be used to conceive children OR to avoid pregnancy. Keep on the lookout for my next post explaining what it is, how it works, and why it is a morally acceptable.

Children In Church: How Far Is Too Far?

This year, Elizabeth attended all the Triduum Masses (I know, I know, Good Friday is a service, not a Mass...but for ease of writing I'm just gonna lump them all together and say Mass) and Easter morning Mass:

Holy Thursday: 7pm-9pm
Good Friday: 3pm-4:45pm
Easter Vigil (Saturday): 8pm-11:30pm
Easter Morning: 10:30am-11:45am

The Triduum Masses are known to be long, late, and chock full of solemn silence. When I say that combination of words, the phrase "happy toddler" does not exactly jump quickly to my mind. Regardless, I was determined that she be there for all of it. Many people who heard I was doing this immediately told me that it would NOT be a good idea. The words "crazy", "are you out of your mind", and "glad it's you and not me" were all used. And to be honest, I knew they were right. But my stubbornness prevailed and away we went to participate in the most beautiful liturgies of the entire year.

As always, I had this vision of how things would go. It looked something like this:

For the late Masses, we would begin in the cry room and Elizabeth would fall asleep lovingly in Trent's arms. We would then proceed to the main part of Church and partake in the rest of Mass while Elizabeth kept sleeping. Good Friday service would be a breeze: my parents took her to my brother's church since I had to sing at another church. They're really good at keeping her occupied. Done and done.

My plans, of course, failed miserably and nothing went according to how I thought it would. God loves reminding me that I need to trust Him with everything...you'd think I would have learned by now that I should just stop making plans all together.

Would you like to know what actually happened? The good news is that the Good Friday service went extraordinarily well. Why is that, you ask? Because I wasn't there. For some reason Elizabeth behaves amazingly at Mass when I'm not there. Apparently it's normal for toddlers to be extremely whiny around their moms...right? RIGHT? It's normal, RIGHT?? 

The late Masses, on the other hand...let's just say this: thank GOODNESS we were the only ones in the cry room. I ended up crying from frustration during the Vigil at some point...I don't remember exactly when because it's all kind of a blur to me now...Trent was angry...Elizabeth was beyond tired...screaming at decibel levels I didn't know were possible...

Doesn't that just seem like the perfect picture of holiness?

Many people reading this will say at this point: so you've learned your lesson, right? Surely you would never put yourself or your kid through that again.

Yes I would. I would do it again in a heartbeat. And I plan on doing it again every year I possibly can. (Dangit!! I'm making plans again!!! I mean, God, I will do whatever Your will is...)

The following things have been said to me by many people. Allow me to give my responses. And remember: this is what we do in our family. It might not work for yours, and that's fine! It might not even work for ours in the future. Who knows? But just keep in mind that I'm not saying families who don't do what we do are bad. We're all different. I love y'all no matter what!

Q: That's unfair to your child to put her through that. She's just tired and miserable, so why do it?

A: I would agree with this if it was a regular occurrence. But the Triduum only happens once a year. Sure, she'll be cranky for a few hours during the late Masses.She might not get as much sleep for two nights as she normally does. But it's not going to kill her. It won't cause any long term damage. In fact, I really think it's good to be flexible for special occasions. If my out of town family is visiting, for example, Elizabeth might stay up a few hours later than she normally does so they get more time with her. This is no different...I'm just allowing her to stay up later to spend more time with Christ.

Q: You're not getting anything out of Mass when you take her. Don't you think it's better for you to be more spiritually and mentally present to what's going on around you?

A: That's true. I don't feel as emotionally or spiritually "fulfilled" when I'm focusing on keeping my toddler quiet during Mass. But here's the important part: Our goal in Mass should not be to "get something out of it." I always chuckle to myself when I see Christian churches advertising their "worship experience." Since when is it a requirement that Mass is an "experience?" Emotions and feelings change. Priests change. Homilies change. What I'm there for is what never has and never will change: the Eucharist. Jesus is fully present at each and every Mass, no matter how we feel. And I receive Him: body, blood, soul, and divinity, each time I participate. If my spiritual well being were dependent on my "feelings" or "what I get out of it", then I'd be in big trouble.
Also, in my struggles of caring for my toddler during Mass, I am offering up sacrifice, just as Christ did for us on the cross. It connects me more fully to Christ. Would I sometimes rather be basking in the glory of Liturgy? Or listening intently to the priest's homily? Yes. But I know that hardships are something that we can offer up to God.

Q: I think it's actually rude to sit in the front pews of church when you have small children. You're distracting other people from the Mass.

A: I'm most interested in hearing people's opinions about this one. Is it just the few more outspoken church members who feel this way? Or is it truly disrespectful? Here's what I think: I sit in front of church because I am so easily distracted, and that's where I am able to concentrate best. If I have a hard time paying attention during Mass, what's it like for my 16 month old? Sitting near the front, children can really see what's happening. Rather than simply seeing the back of people's heads, they can watch the priest more closely. They can participate in the Mass more fully (to the best of their ability according to their age). Right now, Elizabeth's "participating in Mass" pretty much means she occasionally looks at the altar, points, and says "Mama." But they have to start somewhere.
Going to Mass is not just about us as individuals. It is about the community coming together to worship. Aren't children part of the community? Shouldn't they be included just as much as anyone else?

I understand that a line must be drawn somewhere. Obviously, if a child is screaming or being extremely distracting, parents should remove them. But children, just by being children, simply are distracting, even if they aren't doing anything. Here are our rules (under normal circumstances) at this point (some people might think these are too strict, others might think they are not strict enough. They are what works for our family at this time...no two families are the same!):

• No solid food in church, no matter what age
• Bottles/sippy cups with milk are okay until a certain point. We are just now starting to phase that out since Elizabeth eats regular meals and doesn't need milk every few hours anymore. We've also found that recently, it makes her more cranky when she sees the bottle bag because she wants it.
• Only religious toys and books allowed. Elizabeth has a wooden child's rosary and a few children's prayer books we take. I'm planning on starting to phase some of those out and moving her to books about the Mass for kids starting around age 2, depending on how she does.
• We always sit in front unless the pews are reserved. 
• We only use the cry room as a last resort. If Elizabeth starts getting very loud or persistently crying, we will go to the cry room. I personally hate cry rooms (although the church we go to has probably the best cry room I've ever seen...it's right next to the altar) but I understand their necessity.
• We try not to encourage her to make faces or "play" with other people during Mass, although we don't mind if others are the ones initiating it.
• We don't let her walk around, even if we are in the cry room. She either sits in the pew or we hold her (we broke this rule at the end of the Easter Vigil. She was running all over the place in the cry room because we were so exhausted)

What do you think? I really would like to know. Especially with my last question: is it rude or disrespectful to sit in the front of church with small children? Or even anywhere but the cry room? I often get feedback on Facebook, but feel free to comment on my blog too...I know y'all are out there! :-)